Unlike Any Other
by Deadly Chakram
Summary: Have you ever met someone so unlike any other person, that they grab your attention and force you to notice them?
1. Lois' POV

Summary: Have you ever met someone so unlike any other person, that they grab your attention and force you to notice them?

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I make nothing. All characters, plot points, and recognizable dialogue belong to DC comics, Warner Bros., December 3rd Productions and anyone else with a stake in the Superman franchise.

* * *

He's unlike any other man I've ever met.

It's not hard to see why. I mean, have you _seen_ what he looks like? Have you _seen_ the way his uniform defines the delicious hardness of his muscles as it stretches oh-so-right over his body? Have you noticed the regal way that heavy cape cascades from his shoulders down his back - a royal, crimson waterfall suspended in time? And don't get me started on his looks.

Soft chocolate eyes to happily drown in. A smile that should come with a warning label. Luxurious black locks that all but beg for me to reach out and run my fingers through them. The little mole above his lip - so close, so kissable, so enticing. Chiseled features that Adonis himself would be jealous of. A voice so soft and warm it feels like Heaven itself.

The strength he possesses - intimidating, awe-inspiring. I watched him swallow a bomb, saw the evidence of it exploding within his body, yet he remained mind-bogglingly unharmed. I witnessed him - first hand, unlike the rest of the world - lift the space shuttle into orbit as though it weighed no more than my feather pillow at home on my bed. I was half afraid he would fly off and disappear before I got the chance to see him again, before I could hear that velvety voice one more time. But he came back. Not to mug for the cameras like most people would. Not to make his presence known to the world.

He came back for _me_.

When he picked me up, not just my body was lifted. My entire spirit, my entire heart, was lifted as well. His arms held me protectively to his solid, broad chest and peace flooded me. In retrospect, I probably should have exercised more caution. He could have crushed me to death with little more than a tremor of his muscles. And, more importantly, he was a complete and utter stranger. A stranger who somehow felt familiar to me, though Superman had never before been seen by the world. Despite my natural defenses, my innate sense of self-preservation, I trusted him implicitly, never even second guessing my decision to willingly step into his embrace until days after the incident occurred. Even then, I never once regretted my actions. Giving myself over to the handsome stranger clad in garish Spandex had felt - and still does feel - completely natural, like it should have been a part of my life for always, not just as a recent, thrilling development.

Lucky me - this god in a cape has forged a relationship with me that is unique to the two of us. No other reporter gets the attention that he gives me. No other woman has him rushing to her side at any and every wish for help, day or night, deadly situation or mundane task like opening a jar of pickles - or, at least, I assume, since I haven't actually called for help for something that insignificant.

Why me? I've been thinking about that a lot in these past weeks since Superman first flew onto the scene, darting in with a flash of primary colors to save the space shuttle, only a terrifying few seconds to spare. The best I've come up with is - I don't know. And I don't care. All that matters is that he's chosen to befriend me. And that's half the battle, if I ever stand any chance of finding out if we can be anything more to each other.

What would it be like, to date Superman? Thrilling, I imagine. Flying off at a moment's notice to have dinner in Italy, seeing a show in New York, then stargazing out in the Australian outback. Seeing the world together, experiencing everything life has to offer, laughing in the face of gravity's restrictions as we fly together, the sun's warm rays caressing us or the star-filled night wrapping its cool blanket around us.

And I wonder, am I good enough for him? Am I attractive enough? Am I interesting enough? Do I somehow stand out in the crowd or do I blend seamlessly into the masses? Is there anything that paints me as a woman unlike any other, who has the potential to make him happy?

* * *

He's a man unlike any other, and it infuriates me.

I don't want him. And I sure as hell don't need him. In fact, I could kill Perry for saddling me with the greenhorn from Nowheresville. It's not so much that Clark Kent is a dead weight as a reporter. The opposite is true. I don't think I've ever been partnered with someone so hardworking or whose skills as a reporter were so honed. It's just that I prefer to be alone. I've always done so much better on my own. Partners just unnecessarily complicate things, as I've learned on more than one occasion.

And, I'll admit, that while I'm no stranger to competition, I just really, _really_ don't want to deal with vying against a partner. A partner who, while capable at his craft, has basically puff pieces to show for the years he's spent in the job. Puff pieces! For crying out loud! Perry couldn't even give me someone who has experience writing _actual_ news, could he? That first day, I felt like less of a partner than I did a glorified baby sitter.

That first day, competition didn't enter my mind. I was too occupied with thoughts of how I was going to tolerate a wet-behind-the-ears greenhorn, how I could expend the least effort into shaping him into a useable partner. After all, Perry expected me to show Kent the ropes, and that included turning him into a _real_ reporter.

And then I found that he had good instincts. Puff writer or not, he had an instinctual - or maybe just painstakingly crafted - ability to get to the heart of the matter, find the small details that would give us a lead and ask the right questions to make people open up, even if they hadn't wanted or intended to. That's when I stopped seeing him as some helpless, mewling newbie and as legitimate competition. I had spent _years_ honing my skills, forging a name for myself, clawing my way to the very top of the Daily Planet reporting team, ensuring that the world over read front page article after front page article written by Lois Lane.

And then Kent came along.

He's almost as good as I am. Almost. I like to think that I'm still better, if only because he seems to be incredibly naive about the world at large. He may be a decent reporter and a world traveler, but he comes across as so...so...innocent to the ways of the world, and not necessarily in a good way. He strikes me as the type who leaves a key under his doormat and expects that no thief will ever find it and break into his apartment.

Infuriating.

Because he's not so innocent as he makes himself out to be. There is a devious side to him. A calculating side. And, dare I say it, a bold side.

Not since I was a child has anyone dared to mess with me. But Kent! Goddamn Kent! He dared. He dared and he won. Won and humiliated me. I will never, ever forget that. The endless trudging through the sewer reclamation facility. The billions of mosquitoes who apparently saw an All You Can Eat Buffet sign on me. Finally finding that spot on the map only to find a stupid Godzilla toy with an S painted on his chest. The way I instantly knew who'd set me up and the burning ire I had. The way I stormed into the Planet and confronted him.

The way he again proved that he is not like other men. Other men would have snickered. Other men would have gloated in a victory well-won against a formidable opponent. Other men would have rubbed my face in it, teased me mercilessly about it for weeks, if not for months or years to come.

But not Clark.

I looked into his eyes and saw only the barest glimmer of amusement there, but it was overshadowed with contrition. He didn't gloat. He didn't even deny that he was the one who'd managed to pull a prank on me. When I congratulated him - grudgingly, I admit - on winning, he said he hadn't won at all.

And the thing is, as much as I am loathe to admit it, he probably deserved to laugh at my expense. He probably should continue to rub my face in it. I committed a cardinal sin against him. I took advantage of his naivety and stole his story. But he hasn't mentioned the incident since, and he certainly doesn't laud any kind of newfound superiority over me as we work together. Why is that? Everyone else at the Planet would, if they could.

Could it be that he's just that humble, even nice, of a man?

* * *

He's unlike any other man and it sometimes drives me crazy.

Sometimes with desire, sometimes with frustration. He's so...untouchable. So unattainable. So...tempting and perfect. So aloof when he wants to be, at least, to the rest of the world. To me, however, he's friendly. Open. Honest. Playful. Flirty, in his own way, or at least, I'd always thought so.

But tonight.

He had his chance.

I offered myself to him. Not in a sexual way. In a complete, all encompassing way. All he had to do was say the word and I would have been his. His to date. His to sleep with. His to come home to at night after he saves the world for the thousandth time. His to build a life - a real life - with, if he wanted to.

He turned me down.

I'm not used to that. Not as a datable woman, at any rate. As a reporter, I'm so used to having doors slammed in my face that it actually surprises me when someone actually _agrees_ to talk to me. It comes with the territory, unfortunately. And I've noticed that as I've become more and more known as a journalist, the more I get rejected by people who don't want to answer the questions I want to ask. But rejected for a date? Never. _I'm_ the one who does the rejecting.

But Superman...he turned me down. Said no. Acted like he wasn't even interested, though I knew he's been almost flirty with me in the past. He didn't even hesitate. Didn't stop to think it over. Just flat out refused me. At least he didn't seem happy about it. In fact, he seemed incredibly sad when I spoke to him. I don't know if it was something I said, or if maybe he'd just come from an emotionally draining rescue.

All I know is that his rejection hurt me more than I wanted to admit, even to myself. All I know is that I wanted him to say yes, so badly. Not only because I wanted to live the fantasy I'd created in my head about what it would be like to date Superman, but because deep down inside, I think I was acutely aware of the fact that I didn't love Lex. I think I wanted, on some subconscious level, to have a legitimate excuse to turn down Lex's proposal.

But, he didn't give me a reason. And that makes him unique, and even more mysterious to me.

* * *

He's a man unlike any other, and for that, I am eternally thankful.

He's my partner. My friend. My _best_ friend.

He's my rock, especially now.

I'm not even sure when or how it happened. One moment, I hated Clark Kent with the heat of a thousand suns. The next moment, I'd found that he'd slipped past every carefully constructed defense I'd built up over the years and that he'd touched my very soul.

From my competition to my best friend, all in the blink of an eye.

Somehow, he's softened me. Not in a bad way, mind you. But in a wonderful, albeit, frightening, way. He's made me learn to trust again. Even after all of the bad things in my life, even after every broken promise, every time I've been let down by others. My father, the absentee. Claude, the leech who used me - both my body and my mind. Paul, another user. Lex, the worst of all, a man who tried to mentally and emotionally abuse me, and who almost succeeded. Now armed with the power of hindsight, I can see exactly what Clark was trying to tell me. I was just too blinded by the glitz and glamour of dating the charismatic billionaire to see what was directly in front of me.

But Clark saw. He knew. He tried to warn me. And I was too stubborn to listen. I pushed him away. I refused to admit that he could be right. But for all of that, when my world came crushing down - my wedding ruined, my fiancée dead by his own actions - Clark was there for me. He stood by me. He never once said "I told you so." He never even let his disgust toward Lex show - even though I _know_ that he hates the man with everything that he has.

He was simply there for me.

No one has ever been there for me the way Clark was. Not my cheating father. Not my alcoholic mother. Not even my sister - she's always needed _me_ too much to be there for me in the way that I've needed her. Even as kids, when all we had was each other to lean on during our parents' divorce, I was always the one _giving_ comfort, rather than taking it.

Clark is so different in that regard.

During my time with Lex, my relationship with Clark became strained at best, and all but non-existent during the worst moments. Even a short phone call became awkward and our once-easy banter vanished, leaving us barely able to speak to one another. But when I needed Clark, he was there. The terrible things we'd said to each other, the unkind accusations we'd made against one another - all of it disappeared, burned away like pre-dawn mist in the full heat of the sun. It was as if Clark had forgotten it all, rather than merely decided that it no longer mattered.

His sheltering arms were there to embrace me when I needed them. His shoulder was always available to cry on. His ear was ever ready to listen and his tongue mute unless he knew I needed his comforting words. His words. They were always the right thing, exactly what I needed to hear, exactly what I hoped he would say. His home was always open to me, any time of the day or night, for as long or as little as I needed it. And I'll freely admit that I took full advantage of his offer, sometimes appearing on his doorstep in the middle of the night, still dressed in my pajamas, a blanket around my shoulders and haggard bags under my eyes. There were nights when I could not sleep, no matter how hard I tried, unless I was curled up under his comforter, in his bed, in his apartment, while he dozed on the couch in the other room to afford me what little privacy his open-floor apartment could offer.

Unlike every other man in my life, Clark healed my broken spirit, instead of doing the breaking. For that, I can never repay him.

* * *

He was a man unlike any other, and my life is richer for having shared a small portion of it with him.

 _Was._

Such a hateful, tiny word.

 _Was._

My life is so much poorer for that word. It should be _is._ I would do anything, and I mean _anything_ to make it _is_ once more.

My best friend. Taken from me in the span of a heartbeat. His life stolen by a reanimated thug with a gun.

Every time I close my eyes, I see it anew. Clark's body, snapping stock still as the bullets hit him, looking down in confusion as though his mind hadn't yet registered what had happened to it. His body, slumping to the floor as his spirit fled, leaving behind a hollow shell of the man he once was. Each time I try to still myself and quiet my thoughts, I hear those awful shots. _Bang! Bang! Bang!_ I hear myself scream, horror and panic in equal parts, changing my voice into something I can't even recognize.

I'm surprised I have any tears left. I could have sworn I'd cried them all out already.

Clark.

The one man who could comfort me. The one man who is now forever beyond my reach.

There's such a finality to it. Facing death with Clark has been one thing. Actually losing him to the afterlife is another. Death is nothing new to me. I've lost loved ones before. But this...losing _Clark_ is different somehow. I didn't just lose _him_ , I lost the future. I lost _hope._ I lost any possible chance at love.

Love.

Clark died without ever knowing of my emerging feelings for him. While I can't say that I'm head-over-heels, ready to walk down the aisle love with him, I _do_ love him. I would have dated him, I think, if he had asked, as scary as it would have been, to put our friendship and professional relationship on the line like that. I could have - was beginning to - see a future with him, one where we were more than friends.

I'll never forgive myself for not telling him, especially because I know how he felt about me. I knew the longing in his heart - I could see it even in the beginning when he was the partner I was saddled with against my wishes. I told him not to get attached, not to fall for me, but even as hardened as I was, I think I still recognized that it was already too late.

And now, now he'll never know. It kills me inside. I'll never be able to tell him how I feel. I'll never again see that sparkle in his eyes, hear that precious laugh again, engage in friendly banter with him again. I'll never look across the aisle at work and see him sitting at his computer pretending not to be looking in my direction. I'll never again have the satisfaction of seeing our two names together in the byline of the paper.

There's a hole in my chest where my heart used to be. And I know that it will never heal, not if I live to be one hundred years old. I'll always look back on the time spent getting to know Clark Kent with fondness, regret, and paralyzing pain.

It hurts. Everything hurts. My chest feels like it's being crushed in a vice. My lungs burn with each breath I take. My throat is raw from alternating between the biggest, ugliest cry of my life and screaming out my pain. My head is throbbing as the same images of my best friend's brutal murder replay within my brain. My eyes are stinging with the effort of releasing the torrent of tears that have not ceased since Clark hit the floor of the casino and my brain registered what had happened to him. My nose is raw and red from the sniffling and repeated wiping with even the softest tissues I can find.

He was a man like no other. There will never be another like him ever again. And in one miserable second, his life and my heart were snuffed out.

* * *

He's unlike any other man, and it makes me wonder.

It's strange, really. Part of me still desires him, still wants to see if we could make a relationship work. And part of me knows that it can never be. He's too unavailable - he wouldn't have time for _me_ when the entire world is clamoring for his attention and help. Maybe he doesn't even feel desire. I mean, who is to say how Kryptonians think or feel? Maybe they are fundamentally different from us in that way.

I hope not.

Even if I can never have Superman, it would be tragic if he didn't share the same emotions, the same yearnings, as human beings. How empty would life be without those feelings of gladness, of passion, of love? Even sadness has its place, helps fill the void of trudging though each day.

We've moved past the awkwardness that had sprung up between us when I offered myself to him before saying yes to Lex's ring. It's almost like old times again. He laughs with me. He gives me that private smile I've never seen him give any other member of the press - female or otherwise. He teases me.

But it's not the same either. And that has more to do with me than anything.

Superman lied to me.

I asked him about how a scrawny little twerp of a man could have Superman's powers and he flat out lied to me. Not only lied to me but did it so easily, so convincingly. I believed him when he said that he didn't know. Believed it without question. He's _Superman_ , for crying out loud! He stands for _truth._ So why would I have had any reason to doubt the sincerity of his words? And then, I found out that he _did_ know the answer, that he'd deliberately spoken an untruth to me.

With the power of hindsight, I understand why he did it, even almost agree with his decision, in a way. He knew I'm a reporter, and that I would feel obligated to print the whole truth of the story. And after seeing Lex's strange and obsessed doctor be so willing to kill for the transfer of those same powers, I can't say that I blame Superman for wanting to keep the knowledge only to himself.

But his lie did have one consequence. I haven't been able to look at him quite the same since. His decision and desire to keep the knowledge out of the public's eye I can commend. But knowing that he didn't trust me - enough to lie to my face - has shattered the once pristine and godly image of him that I once carried. He is not a god in a cape. He's a fallible, mortal man, his invulnerability notwithstanding.

And right now, I'm not sure that I like him even more for his humanness, or if I'm disgusted by the fact that he couldn't trust me to do the right thing.

* * *

He's unlike all others, and because of that, I have to protect him.

I have to help him. Even if it means putting my own life in harm's way. Even if it all but guarantees my death. I can't let Clark walk through this alone. I can't let him lose his parents.

I have to do _something._

So, I've made my choice. Tonight, I will ask Superman to freeze my body so that I can appear to be dead. Once Clark's parents are freed, Superman can then try to thaw me out again. Hopefully, I'll survive it.

I have to _try._

If there's one thing I've learned, it's that I love Clark. I would do anything to protect him. I would do anything to prevent him from feeling an ounce of pain. I'm the only one that can help him now - it's my dead body that the kidnapper is demanding to see. There is no one else on this Earth who can help the man I love, and I wouldn't _want_ anyone else to do what I am about to offer.

I'm afraid.

What if things don't go well? What if the kidnapper decides that my death isn't enough? What if everything goes according to plan? What if I die during the thawing process? What if I thaw out but suffer brain damage from being clinically dead for so long?

I don't care.

If I were the one in a jam, I know Clark wouldn't hesitate to put his life on the line for me. I've seen him do it before. He's constantly drawing the attention of those who would seek to harm or kill us - doing what he can to make them forget about me so that I have a chance to escape unharmed.

Why should I care if I die for real tonight? Clark has already died for me. And even though he came back, miraculously no worse for his ordeal, I still have nightmares about that night, waking up some nights with shots ringing in my ears, a scream on my tongue, my body drenched in sticky sweat. I see it all in those nightmares, just as clearly as I did when I watched them unfold in the real, waking world. The way he stepped up for me. The way he put himself between the reanimated criminals and me, with no regard for his own safety. The way he took those bullets into his own body, when they almost certainly bore my name on them.

Clark is a rare man. I don't think anyone could argue that fact. But to me, he means even more. He is the epitome of the phrase "one of a kind." Everything about him stands out as exceptional, even how genuinely humble he is.

So, tonight, I will do what I must. I will try to match Clark's giving spirit. I will try to emulate the kindness he once showed to a bitter, hardened, loveless newswoman. I will try to make myself worthy of his love.

* * *

He's a man unlike the rest. Or, rather, should I say that he's _two men_ unlike the rest?

He's a liar. Plain and simple. He's a rotten, lousy liar. All this time, I thought I knew him. All this time, I made myself look like an _idiot_ in front of him.

Clark.

Superman.

Two men. One man.

Two individual beings blurred into one body, one mind, one spirit. It's like the world's worst case of split personality disorder. Okay, maybe not the _worst,_ but it's still hard for me to accept. I mean, it makes sense, in some weird, unexplainable way. I was shocked when I figured it out, and I was shocked when he didn't deny it. But beneath it all was an odd sense of almost expecting it to be true. After all, it explains so much. The frequent disappearances. The uncanny ability to snag a Superman exclusive. The vague sense I had that I might have seen Superman's face before, even though the world had not yet met the alien hero.

Idiot.

Why couldn't I see what was staring me in the face literally every day, all day long? Why was I so blind? How could I not connect the two? Neither Clark nor Superman were very good about hiding the way they looked at me. Neither one was shy about praising the other. And how come I never questioned how Superman knew my name, where I worked, and what desk I sat at during that first, critical rescue? Why did I never realize how similar they looked, down to the same mole above their upper lip, which enticed me on Superman and annoyed me - at first - on Clark?

Thinking back, I'm embarrassed. I've said and done some really horrible things. Comparing Clark to Superman - calling the former less than average and the latter a god. Ignoring what Clark said only to have him repeat it as Superman, and then listening to it simply because it came from the handsome hero. Propositioning Superman just hours after Clark opened up his heart to me, telling me that he loved me, begging me to consider him instead of Lex. I understand now why Superman looked absolutely gutted that night, and why, for the first time ever, he spoke in snapped words to me.

Of course, gentleman that Clark is, I know he'll never mention those embarrassing moments. And if they ever do happen to come up in conversation, I know he'll lightheartedly brush them off, as though they meant nothing, as though they didn't wound his heart in any way. And I know they must have hurt him, all those moments when I had cast aside the man in favor of the shadow he throws.

I know, with undeniably certainty, Clark is the man and Superman is the puppet. I know Clark - I've seen his baby pictures, spoken with his parents, been treated to amusing stories of things he did while he was a child. I've seen him work, I've seen him use the ATM, I've even seen him doing his taxes. Clark is definitely the real deal. Superman is the imposter.

If anyone else had lied to me about leading a dual life, I would have been mad, sure. But because it was Clark - the one decent, honest man I knew - it hurts so much more. My trust is shaken, and he more than anyone, knows how fragile my trust in anyone is. I'm not sure how or if I'll ever be able to trust him again.

If Clark was any other man, I would be done with him. He'd be a thing of the past, just another federal disaster of a relationship to add to the pathetically long list I have. But as it stands, he's different. I love him too much. And that's what makes this so hard. I _want_ to be with him, but I'm too hurt, too angry to want to deal with him right now.

It's strange. I know he's done nothing wrong, in terms of being Superman. Part of me admires him for having the courage to go out there everyday, putting his own life and happiness on the line in order to save others and bring peace to society. It takes a special person - man or woman - to put the world before their own needs and desires. But the other part of me feels every single, stinging lie he told me to keep that information secret. I get why he doesn't want the world to know. He wants a normal life. He needs to protect the people he loves. And, in the beginning, I would have used the information to secure my Pulitzer. But he knows me better than that now, and yet he still perpetuated the lie.

Time. I need time. Time to mull over what happened. Time to see past the blame and anger I've directed at myself. I can't allow this to ruin the one decent relationship I've had, not if I can help it. But the thing is, I'm afraid. Afraid that some part of me will never let go of the wound my pride took when I discovered his secret on my own, far too long after it should have been apparent.

Please, God, for once, let _me_ be the one who is unlike the rest. Please, let _me_ be the exceptional one, the woman who can work through her issues to keep the most important person in her life actually _in_ her life.

* * *

He's a man unlike any other, and I can only hope they realize how lucky they are.

No, scratch that. They had _better_ understand just how rare of a man Clark is. He's a man so driven by compassion and such an intense desire to heal any kind of injustice, that he's given everything up to help strangers. I know it wasn't easy for him. The deciding very nearly tore him apart. Stay and be happy, marry the woman of his dreams and start the family he'd always desired, help the citizens of a planet that is his home, despite whatever his origins and genetics might say. Or give it all up to marry a woman he doesn't love, to fight in a war which could very easily kill him, to rule over a people and planet that is completely alien to him.

He chose to help, though he knows nothing of New Krypton. He chose to honor the sacrifice his parents made by sending their precious infant son out into the cold universe in a desperate attempt to save his life. He chose to try to repay the grateful debt he feels to the planet which birthed him.

I don't think anyone else could have made that choice. I don't think anyone else could be selfless enough to give up their happily ever after in favor of an unknown, joyless future. But Clark did. I have to applaud him for that, even while my heart breaks and bleeds, even while my tears drown me and my sobbing suffocates me. I have to respect him for his decision. Honestly, I doubted that his choice would be anything but what it was. It's just not him, not _Clark_ , to turn his back on anyone's suffering. It's not in his nature to withhold help if it within his power to give it.

A rare man.

And now the Earth is poorer for his absence. A beacon of hope and light suddenly shut off, leaving us all in the darkness of mourning.

He was a symbol of hope for us all. His actions, day in and day out, gave the people of Earth a measure of optimism. He stood for everything that most people want in life. Safety. Peace. Order. Justice. Freedom. Now he has to be that symbol of hope for a people he doesn't know, with ways that I'm sure are strange to him, who I get the sense may not even fully trust the Earth-raised man. And I can only pray that Clark's natural, wonderful, unassuming, honest personality wins them over. He'll need all the support he can get as he adjusts to a world that is completely alien to him.

And Zara.

Oh, how I want to hate her! But...I can't. None of this is her fault. She's not responsible for the marriage that bound her as Clark's wife from birth. She's not to blame for the madman who is hell-bent on destroying the only home the precious few survivors of Krypton have left. I looked into Zara's eyes and I saw longing there. Not for Clark. For her bodyguard, Ching, a man I once loathed for the inhumane tests he forced Clark to undergo. But I looked into his eyes as well, and saw pain there when he realized that Clark was a worthy match for the woman he loved and as a savior for their people. All the fire of my hate has sputtered out and died, the coals going dead to leave a cold loneliness and devastating heartbreak behind.

Clark promised to come home to me, if and when he could. And I believe him, even if I have little hope of that occurring. Someone will always need him.

Then again, he's a rare man, and if anyone can make the impossible happen, it's him. And when he does, I will be here, waiting for him with open arms and an aching heart.

* * *

He's unlike the rest.

He is mine.

And I am his.

Bound together with promises spoken, vows pronounced before God and man alike. Two made one as we pledged our lives to each other. Husband and wife, now and forever, never to be parted again.

It's been an uphill battle, as though some evil force out in the universe has attempted to thwart our every move forward to this moment. But we persevered and now we can finally breathe easily. We've made it. To the altar. Through the ceremony. Into our married life together.

I look at Clark and I see my future. I see _our_ future. A life together. Security. A sense of knowing that no matter what happens, no matter where we go, with him, I'll always be home. Family. In many ways, I haven't had a family since I was a child. Parents who warred constantly, were dismissive of daughters, who were too drunk to care. A sister who was too emotionally dependant on me when I was trying too hard not to crumble myself.

Marriage used to scare me. What if mine ended as badly as my parents' marriage did? What if I wound up destroying my own children, they way I always felt that I was?

But with Clark, I know these things will never happen. He's the one man in all the world - in the entire universe - who can dissolve all my fears, shedding light on them to chase away the shadows of doubt. He's unique in that way, as well as every other way.

His love is so pure, so deep, so unrestrained that it was once terrifying. I wasn't used to such affection. I didn't trust that he wasn't so different from all the rest of the male species. There was no way that he could love me - I was stone cold, downright mean at times, and completely unlovable. Not only unlovable, but without a doubt unworthy of even his friendship. He had to want something from me. He had to have some ulterior motive. Or perhaps he was just too blind to see that his affection for me was no more than a misguided puppy love.

I was wrong.

Once I allowed myself to get to know him, I understood all too clearly that his love for me was real in everyway. He was not like all the other men I had met in my life. He was a singular anomaly - someone who saw past the stony walls and prickly thorns I had constructed to keep people out of my heart and who instead carefully picked his way through my defenses to breach my vulnerable spirit. He made me see him, not as a partner, not even as a friend, but as someone to trust my bruised and battered heart to in every way.

He awoke within me a love like no other.

And with that love blossoming within me, Clark reshaped the person I was into the person I am now. I'm still the hardnosed reporter, and I still pride myself on doing whatever is necessary to get the story or break the case. But in private, I'm a new woman. I'm not afraid to show him my sensitive side. I never feel shame when my tears flow before him and he wipes them away with a tender finger and a light kiss, whereas before I would have rather died than have anyone see me in a moment of weakness. With Clark, I can be as silly, as weird, as relaxed as I want to be. He doesn't judge me, but instead usually joins right on in with my antics. I don't have to pretend with him, because he makes me want to be my real self when I'm with him.

It's spilled over into my public life too, I think. Friendships never used to come easy, but now I find myself much more willing to allow others into my life, even if only in limited ways. I'm not as closed off as I once was. And my preexisting relationships are even deeper and richer than they ever could have hoped to be, before Clark came and altered my heart.

Because of Clark, I've begun the slow and difficult task of repairing my once barely existent relationship with my father. I've learned forgiveness, to a certain extent, though I'm not sure I'll ever fully be able to forget all the years of heartache he once caused, and the feelings of inadequacy that I used to harbor. And as for my relationship with my mom, while I wouldn't call it the perfect mother-daughter bond, it _is_ much healthier than it used to be. Even my relationship with Lucy has changed for the better. And although I've always had a solid friendship with Jimmy and Perry, it's different now. Deeper. Easier. More casual and less formally professional.

It's made me a happier person. I have no one but Clark to thank for that.

He's unlike any other man, and I wouldn't have it any other way.


	2. Clark's POV

Summary: Have you ever met someone so unlike any other person, that they grab your attention and force you to notice them?

* * *

She's unlike any other woman I've ever met.

Headstrong.

Confident.

Demanding.

Unapologetic.

Focused.

All of this I had to deduce at a glance, for barely more than a minute as she interrupted my interview with Mr. White. No, interrupted may be too polite a word. More like just barged right in. She was so focused on getting what she wanted that she didn't even notice that her boss was otherwise occupied. She didn't see me sitting there. And when Mr. White made the introduction, I was visually appraised and dismissed in the span of a heartbeat.

But in that heartbeat, my life was changed.

Metropolis was just a city before that moment. A bustling, loud, dirty, busy, incredible city. And the Daily Planet was just a paper. A world renown newspaper to be sure - one of the best, in fact! - and one I had sincerely hoped to secure a job at. But that was before Lois Lane. With that first glance, my heart raced and I found myself lost in the depths of her beauty. In that moment, Metropolis and the Daily Planet were no longer options. They were necessities.

What become necessary was finding a way to get to know Lois Lane.

Her beauty - striking. If Helen of Troy could launch a thousand ships with her beauty, Lois could easily incite a third world war with her looks. Her passion - a roaring inferno that set my entire body ablaze with admiration and desire. Her heartbeat - a Siren call to this travel-weary soul.

But my experience wasn't good enough for Mr. White. I can't blame him. Most of my work is not exactly hard news. The overwhelming majority of it is fluff pieces - the only work I could get as I moved around from place to place, rendering me able to only take freelance positions, for the most part. I'm sure that same spotty employment record didn't foster any confidence in Mr. White either, even with the recommendation from Professor Carlton. How could he trust that I was any good as a writer? How could he trust that I wouldn't up and leave in a few short months, just like I have at every other publication I've worked for? Blamelessly, he declined to offer me a position at the paper.

It was a blow to my heart. The Daily Planet had been a dream job for me, but I always knew that I could work for any other well respected paper in any other city. I did not have a "Daily Planet or Bust" mindset going into the interview at all. It was losing the chance to get to know Lois that truly hurt. So I decided, as I rode the elevator back down to the lobby, that I would work myself, push myself, as hard as possible until I became a reporter that Mr. White could deem acceptable and Lois could take notice of. I would not rest until I secured employment at the paper where my heart now truly resided.

All because of her.

* * *

She's not like other women and sometimes it can drive me crazy.

It's obvious that she resents being saddled with the Planet's newest and - in her eyes - greenest, employee. It's even more obvious that she resents my very existence, as if just by being around me, she's had to lower herself in some unfathomable way. It should bother me - it _does_ bother me - but not in the way I'd imagined it would.

Vulnerable.

Underneath the tough-as-nails veneer, I can sense that Lois is hiding away a very vulnerable, likely already wounded, heart. And it makes me sad and protective of her all at the same moment. I want to confront those who have hurt this wonderfully complex, fascinating, brilliantly beautiful woman. I want to fix all the broken pieces of her heart, to mend all the hurts she carries within the privacy of her soul. I want to right all the things that are wrong in her world.

I want to _be_ her world.

She's already my universe.

My once bleak and lonely world is now filled with sunshine and companionship, even if Lois doesn't yet recognize or want that to be the case. My thoughts are filled with her, the very mention of her name bringing a smile to my lips, her essence surrounding me like the finest perfume that ever was. My heart yearns for her, each resounding thump of it pushing a love for her through my veins. My dreams bring me to her in ways that I can only wish for, even if I can't yet allow myself to believe that they may one day come to pass.

Simply put, Lois Lane is perfection. And more than anything, I want to be free to love her, and God willing, be loved by her in return.

She's incredible. Every day she pushes me to be a little bit better than I was the day before. Sometimes, these nudges are gentle and completely unintentional - things said or done, or even left unsaid - that make me stop and think and change the way I'm handling something. Sometimes, the nudges are forceful - corrections made to my copy, little digging, stinging comments about how naive and untried as a reporter I am. And sometimes, her prodding takes me completely off guard.

Superman.

I have only Lois to thank for that.

It was her idea. She mentioned bringing a change of clothes to work, after witnessing the aftermath of one of my rescues in the form of a destroyed business suit. Not even my mother, whose own powers include getting stains out of pretty much anything, had failed to get the evidence of my sewer rescue out of my clothing, which was a shame. I really did like that particular suit. But when Lois mentioned spare clothing to change into, the seed was planted. It kept coming to mind until it finally blossomed into the idea of a costumed superhero who was _not_ Clark Kent.

Freedom.

Lois certainly didn't intend on it, but in that moment, she gave me freedom. Freedom to do as I wished, to help, to dash off into the thick of even the worst disasters. She gave me a way to secure my anonymity even while I became the most famous man in the world. Necessity may be the mother of invention, but in a way, Lois Lane is the mother of Superman. Without her, I don't think he would exist.

I owe her Superman's life and I can't even tell her that. Not now. Maybe not ever. She's too good of a reporter. She's too focused on the Pulitzer. Superman's true identity is a story she wouldn't even spend a heartbeat over debating. She would write it and publish it and my life - my parents' lives - would be over. We'd be targeted by every sick, twisted criminal on the planet. I can't gamble with my parents' safety like that.

And I know, without a doubt, that Superman would be hunted down and those who are close to him would be used as bait. My brief encounter with Bureau Thirty-Nine proved that fact over and over again. Both Lois and I were used to try to bait Superman into wandering into Trask's clutches, all because we are perceived as being close to the hero, if only because we'd written articles about him.

And, selfishly, I know Lois is already falling - already _has fallen_ \- for the costumed alien, when all I want is for her to notice _me_ , Clark, the man beneath the S. I don't want her to love Superman, or worse, come to love me because I _am_ Superman. I want her, if she ever comes to love me, to fall for the real man, not the pretend one.

So I maintain my silence and play the part of the clueless fool when it comes to Superman. I pretend good fortune when I bring in the Superman exclusives - the lucky guy who just so happens to be in the right place at the right time. I continue to camouflage myself with flimsy, rushed excuses and I hide behind a pair of glasses and an adopted act where I do what I can to appear as less than what I am.

Will Lois ever learn the truth? Sometimes, I wonder. She's the smartest woman that I know, but so far, the Spandex has her fooled. And though I hate to lie to her, the fact that she is blind to the fact that she works next to Superman all day long is reassuring because she is the litmus test for the rest of humanity. If she can't see what is staring her in the face, I have faith that the rest of the world will remain blissfully unaware as well. But still, part of me knows that someday, she may _need_ to learn the truth. One day in the future I dream about - where Lois loves me for who I really am and I no longer have to fear worldwide exposure - I hope to be able to finally share my whole self with the woman I love.

Lois is unique that way. She is the only person on this planet that I would ever even consider having no secrets around.

She's made me a better person and a better reporter. Being partnered with her has been the best thing that could have happened to me, not only because I crave any excuse to be near her, but because I've constantly pushed myself to be a better writer. I want to impress her, any way that I can. I want her to look at Clark and see someone worthy of her valuable time and respect. I want to seem worthwhile to her.

Of course, I want to better myself for me as well. But that desire pales in comparison to making myself better for Lois. I need to be her equal. I cannot let her down. I cannot drag down her writing simply because she was stuck with me for a partner. For that matter, I can't let Mr. White down either. I need to prove to him that he did the right thing in hiring me.

I don't need to be the best. I never have. Being the best only brings unwanted attention that I've never been comfortable with. But for Lois, I can be the best, if given the opportunity, if only to ensure that _she_ remains the best - one half of the greatest reporting team there ever was, so long as Mr. White deems it wise to keep us as partners.

* * *

She's a woman unlike any other I've ever met, though I've traveled for years and seen literally the entire world.

My best friend.

My heart and soul.

I'm not sure when it happened, or how. If I had to guess, I would say that it was while we were in Smallville, when the dynamic between us changed for the better. I don't know why. Maybe being out of her element made her see things a little differently. Maybe it was because the fun, genuine, welcoming atmosphere of the Corn Fest relaxed her. Maybe it was because she was finally exposed to, and immediately accepted into, a warm, loving family. Maybe it was because I nearly died at the hands of a madman. All I know is that over the course of the few days we were in Kansas, Lois' hardened outer shell cracked and fell away and she finally exposed the small chinks in the sturdy, nearly impenetrable walls of her heart, allowing me to enter that sacred inner sanctum as a trusted friend, even a best friend.

Somehow, though I hate to pat myself on the back or build myself up to be anything special, I truly believe that she was in desperate need of a best friend.

That's not to say, of course, that she took the first person who came along and who treated her nicely and latched on to them. No, Lois is truly a rare woman. She is the discerning type who I can imagine fully scrutinizes any potential friends before deciding to give them a chance. And so I feel honored to be counted among the precious few who seem to be part of her inner circle of acquaintances.

And to think that I nearly lost her. Not only lost her, but I came close to losing her to a criminal, a sociopath, and man I would liken to the devil himself. It makes me shudder with fear and revulsion to think that Lois Lane - beautiful, brilliant, wonderfully complex, bursting with life, full of passion Lois Lane - very nearly became Lois Luthor. It still makes me sick to remember those awful, torturous weeks when Luthor's influence all but snuffed the life out of Lois' spirit, when he mentally abused her and manipulated her, cutting her off from everyone who cared about her. Even when I lay dying in that accursed Kryptonite cage, the radioactive rock rendering me powerless and putting my body aflame with pain, my true agony was within my own heart, knowing there was nothing I could do to stop Lois from making the biggest mistake of her life.

And then, a miracle.

She said "no."

Something made Lois hesitate up at the altar. Something inside told her to answer "no" when the bishop asked her if she took Luthor to be her husband. What that something was, she has never said, nor have I asked. Her reasons are her own and I don't need to know in order to be grateful for the fact that she no longer wears the billionaire's blood diamond on her finger. I don't care why she said no, only that she did, only that she is no longer under the crime lord's influence.

Strength.

I may be the strongest man in the world, maybe the universe, but lately it has been _Lois_ who has been teaching me the true meaning of the word strength. That's not to say that she hasn't broken down in tears over everything that's happened. More than once, she's shown up on my doorstep with tears in her eyes and the remnants of a nightmare still clinging to her like invisible strands of silk. But the fact that she is allowing me to be a part of these moments - the fact that she is actively seeking me out during them, expecting me to make it magically better for her - is a testament to the strength she carries inside. For Lois, showing her emotion so blatantly is not something she is comfortable with. And so I am honored that she has included me in her grieving process.

It's interesting, actually. Her grief, so far as she has talked about it, isn't over losing Luthor. It's been over her own blindness to what he was doing to her, what he was doing to her relationships with all of her friends. I think maybe she never truly loved him. No, more than think. I'm _certain_ that she was never in love with the billionaire. Which, in turn, makes it all the more mystifying why she would ever have accepted his proposal in the first place. She even propositioned me as Superman, looking for, I think - now that I am armed with the knowledge of hindsight - a reason to say no to his ring in the first place.

I know Lois was feeling lonely and Luthor's lavish attention made her feel wanted and special. Who wouldn't revel in the affection of someone so rich and famous? And I know she felt unworthy, in a way, as though she'd never be able to find a decent man to settle down with. Settling. That's what she did, even though I find it hard to fathom how anyone, especially Lois, could so easily dismiss all the wonderful, intriguing facets of her personality and settle for the wrong man, just because...of what? That she might never find anyone else willing to give her a second look? Could her self esteem have really been that low?

Even if it was, that makes her ability to walk away from a loveless marriage of convenience all the more admirable. It makes her even stronger in my eyes, not weaker. It makes her a truly rare woman, because there are few who I've met that have ever seemed the type to seize control of their life in so bold a manner as to break off their wedding plans at such a critical point.

It makes me love her even more.

But I can wait, I can be patient. The timing right now isn't ideal. In fact, it's flat out wrong. Not enough time has passed. She hasn't fully healed from her trauma. And I've only just recently pretended to brush off my confession of love to her as the ravings of a man desperate to keep her from making a mistake that would haunt her for the rest of her life. Another little white lie meant to protect Lois' heart even while it send sharp barbs of pain into mine.

So I will wait. And when the opportunity is ripe, I vow that I will not miss my chance again.

* * *

She's not like the rest. No other woman can compare.

She is mine.

Or, at least, she's agreed to go out with me. And so we have, after a few false starts and invitations to a date left hanging in the air between us like a silent, watchful, ever-present ghost.

Lois Lane.

My girlfriend.

Even now, with a few dates already behind us, the knowledge that she has chosen me, Clark, to date seems surreal. The fact that she seems to have given up on the Superman fantasy feels almost unbelievable. _My girlfriend._ The words feel like a dream, as if I were to say them aloud too loudly, the magic spell will be broken and I'll find myself yanked awake back into my formally lonely existence. So I tread lightly, ever-mindful, ever worried about making a misstep and ruining all of the hard work and patience I poured into this endeavor.

And yet, I'm not perfect.

I see the veiled hurt in her eyes when I have to disappear without an explanation, moments when my other duties call to me and there isn't a moment to waste. And I've left myself open to repeated assaults on my relationship with Lois as a result, notably in the form of one stubborn FDA agent who couldn't take a hint that he was an unwelcome presence in my life. For a while there, I truly feared that I had lost Lois to the other man - one who was always there for her when I could not be.

By some grace of God, Lois chose to keep me in her life, and showed Scardino the door.

I'm hyper-aware of how lucky I am. And how undeserving.

My secret. She still doesn't know. And I'm still afraid to tell her. Afraid, but willing now to at least entertain the thought of how best to break the news to her. God, the changes this woman inspires in me! The fear and the bravery too.

My secret. I know it has to come to light sometime. I know it should be sooner, rather than later. I'm tired, so bone-weary, of carrying this burden alone. I know, I know, my parents share in my secret alter ego as well, but it's not the same. I want someone who can _fully_ share my life with me - all of that life. I've known for a long time now, that that someone is Lois.

Only she is rare enough, unique enough, to be trusted with the terrible responsibility of knowing who it is who actually flies around the world in a red cape.

So I will swallow down my fears and tell her, somehow, though my words may falter at times and my hands might shake in trepidation. I will unmask the hero and leave him vulnerable and on his knees, begging for the mercy only she can give and that he may not even be deserving of, since he lied to her for so long. I will embrace the courage that she has stirred up within my heart and take the greatest risk I have ever taken.

Hopefully, she will be understanding, though I know in my heart that she will be angry and hurt over my deception. But I have faith that Lois is strong inside where it counts most, and that she will see why I had to do things the way I did. She's not like any other woman in the way that she is able to see into the heart of the matter, quickly and clearly.

I hope and pray that the same holds true when I unburden myself before her. Whenever that may be.

* * *

She's not like any other woman, and I thank my lucky stars for that simple, complex fact.

She accepts me.

Not just Clark. Not just Superman. But the complicated mix of the two that I am -almost as if I'm two separate souls stuck in the same body.

She doesn't just accept that I moonlight in tights, that Superman and I can never be parted like Peter Pan and his once rogue shadow. She knows that he and I are intertwined for better or worse for the rest of my life. And wonder of wonders, she encourages me to continue. She helps me carry the load when the weight of the world on my shoulders is too much to bear and I need to borrow her strength. She gives freely of the strength she possesses, always instinctively knowing just what to say or not say, knowing when a quiet hug, a simple kiss, a reassuring squeeze of my shoulder is needed as a salve to my defeated spirit.

It happens less frequently now, now that I've had ample time to adjust to being Superman and finding ways to deal with the horrors I see on a daily basis. But it still happens - those moments when I simply cannot mentally shed the image of such extreme amounts of gore, pain, suffering, or death. Moments when I cannot cease the self-blame I have for getting to a disaster a moment too late. Moments when I wonder why I even bother to pull on the blue suit in the morning, when it seems like all my efforts are in vain.

And Lois, as always, is there for me, a steadfast, sturdy rock to lean on. A source of light brighter, more potent, more healing than the sun. Even before she knew it, she was there for me, even when she was busy fawning over Superman and utterly ignoring Clark. Now that she knows, however, she's there for me in a deeper way that evades description and can only be felt. She's more conscious of me now, that's for sure, more receptive to my moods even when I try to shove my emotions aside and ignore the pain within my soul.

She's an incredible, one-of-a-kind woman.

Even when she was so hurt and so angry over the lies I'd told to protect Superman's identity, she was there for me, ready to put her anger aside, on hold, until I could return from making a rescue. No one else in the world could have done that for me. No one else in the world would have displayed such faith and trust in me, knowing that I wasn't using the opportunity to run away from my problems, knowing I would always come back to her.

And the thing is, I truly believe that she had no idea what the gesture meant to me when she gave me permission to leave and be Superman. Maybe, for selfish reasons, she let me go to have time to cool off, to process the knowledge that she possessed and the fact that I hadn't denied it and only confirmed it instead. Maybe she didn't want to be around me at the moment. Regardless of the reason or reasons, she didn't even pause to think about the situation when she told me to go. The trust, the understanding, the faith she placed in me was immediate and unquestioned. And in that moment, I knew. Having Lois know who I am and what it is that I do is the best thing that could have happened. And in time, I hope she comes to see it that way too.

She's a woman who stands out from all the rest for so, so many reasons.

She no longer holds my lies against me. She no longer seems to care that I withheld the information about Superman from her for so long. She no longer even seems to separate Superman from Clark. The way she speaks about me, about him, I know she's blended the two men together without completely mixing them. Clark may be Superman, but Superman is not Clark. Superman is just an extension of Clark, a shadow he throws to the public, a puppet whose strings Clark controls.

Lois sees all of that. She did from the first moment the two men she had befriended merged into one right before her very eyes. Maybe she didn't always feel like she did, sometimes asking me to change back into my Clark clothes because it was easier to talk to me that way. But the way she treated me in both of my personas, the way she spoke to me, the way she only spoke of Superman as a separate entity if she had too, often when we were in public, told me in a million little ways that she had accepted the fact that he and I are inseparable, two halves of the same whole person.

And what's more, she has found it within her to still love me. She's embraced the idea of marriage. She proudly wears the ring I selected for her. She gives her love to me freely, expecting nothing in return, but secure in the knowledge that she receives everything from me. My heart, my soul, my life, my future, all belong to her and her alone. Without her, I would have nothing.

Instead, I have everything I've ever wanted. A job that I love. Friends who are more like family to me. A way to do good in this world and use the powers I've been blessed with to help people. A woman who loves me as wholly, as fiercely, as I love her. The only thing missing is a family of my own, if that is indeed possible for me.

Lois.

She's incredible. The more comfortable we've gotten around each other, the more we've learned about one another, the more she amazes me with the person that she is. She's the exact opposite from when I met her. Or, rather, some of the incorrect assumptions I might have once made back then.

Kind instead of cruel, but not willing to let people walk all over her. Generous rather than stingy, but unwilling to be taken advantage of. Strong for the vulnerability she carries within her heart. Fiery, not hot-headed, though she may not exactly have an unlimited supply of patience, especially when she knows that some piece of the puzzle is just out of reach, but so close she can almost taste it. That goes double for when she knows lives could be at stake. Passionate, not headstrong, with a zest of life and a desire to right the wrongs of the world that is so intense, it rivals my own. Yes, she is can be demanding, but only that people be the best that they can, that they better the world they live in, rather than drag it further down into chaos.

A rare gem.

That's what she is to me. One shining example of perfection amid an imperfect world. With her, I am complete, whole, home in a way I didn't know was possible, but always yearned for. She's vanquished the loneliness and despair I once had as I wandered the Earth in search of the place where I belonged. With her, any place I go is home, be it Metropolis or an igloo in the frozen Arctic or a mud and stick hut on a deserted island.

Peace.

She's brought peace to my soul. Being separated from her for any length of time wounds my heart. So I eagerly count down the days until we say our vows and exchange our rings, our two lives and hearts becoming one before the eyes of our loved ones and God.

She's not just a woman.

She is my wife to be.

* * *

She's a rare woman and my heart aches for her.

I can't be sure I'll ever see her again. I can't guarantee her that I won't die on some far-flung rock in a distant galaxy. I can't promise her that if I _do_ die, that my body will even make it back home to Earth for her to say her final goodbyes to and commit to a plot of land with a granite tombstone marking the short span of my life.

I can only promise to do what I can to help a suffering race of people. I can only swear to relentlessly look for a way out of this sham of a marriage I now find myself in. I can only vow to return if there is any way for me to do so.

I know she believes me.

I know she has hope in her heart, even if only a sliver, that I will come back to her, healthy and alive and free to become her husband.

She's an exceptional woman.

How many others would be able to stand by the man that they love and watch as he left her with shaky assurances that he'll return? How many others would encourage the man they love to put so many strangers and their happiness and prosperity above her own happiness? How many women could watch as their fiancé was forced to accept a prearranged marriage with a stranger he didn't love?

Zara and I weren't even friends yet when I agreed to go to New Krypton with her. And Lois...I know she was jealous Zara, even though Zara would never have chosen me for herself if she'd be given the chance to pick her own spouse. It's abundantly clear that her heart resides with Ching, her steadfast and stoic bodyguard, a match I already instinctively know is far better than Zara and I could ever be. It's a match I'm willing to fight for - to see two people who share that sacred bond of love wind up with each other.

I think, when the whole situation first arose, I expected more of a fight from Lois. I think part of me half expected her to go marching off to the Kryptonian mothership and threaten them all with Kryptonite if they didn't leave me alone. But she didn't. Though I know her emotions railed within her, she accepted the situation with more grace than I probably would have if I'd been in her shoes.

She didn't want me to go. I don't blame her for that. I didn't want to leave her either. But she didn't want me to stay just for her own sake while hundreds of innocent lives were in danger. And she knew that I would never have been able to forgive myself if I selfishly stayed on Earth while my biological peers were massacred under the rule of a psychopath. She also, in her own way, I think, had thought it better for Zara to be married to me than to the apparent sociopath that Lord Nor is supposed to be. She knew, though I would never be able to love Zara as a husband should love a wife, that at least I would be kind and gentle to the stranger I'd been bonded to. In her own way, she placed the security and happiness of another above her own, even though it killed her inside to do so. And I know Zara understands the depth of the sacrifice Lois made - understands and deeply appreciates it even as she longs to be wedded to Ching.

Now I find myself stuck on a space craft, speeding away from Earth at a mind-numbing pace, every second putting more miles between my body and my heart. I may physically go to New Krypton. I may spend months, years, even the entire duration of the rest of my life on that alien world, but my heart, my soul, my mind will forever reside on Earth, with Lois, no matter what paths our lives may take. I know I should rest now, conserve my strength, now that I'm heading to a place without a yellow sun to power my abilities. And these strange customs that I find myself constantly tripping over have me mentally and physically exhausted. My despair at losing Lois has me emotionally drained. But I can't sleep, I can't sit still. I am drawn to the windows, my eyes glued to the dwindling speck of light that is my true home.

And I know.

Lois is thinking of me. Almost as if I can hear the whisper of her voice in my mind, I know she's thinking of me and sending me her love. It's not just a fanciful wish on my part. I feel the certainty of it in every atom of my body. In fact, I wouldn't even be surprised if we do have a connection that runs deeper than pure instinct - if we, like my Kryptonian peers, shared a kind of telepathic link. Absurd? Maybe. But there have been times when I've almost felt as if Lois somehow reached out to me, creating a link between our minds, letting me know that she was in danger or pulling me back from the brink of death when I was in a Kryptonite-induced coma last Christmas.

It would make sense to me, if my wild speculation turned out to be true. Only Lois can touch the deepest parts of my mind and soul. If a bunch of strangers can connect to me in such a fantastical way, why wouldn't Lois? I already know that she isn't like anyone else I've ever met - man or woman. Why wouldn't she be set apart from all the rest in this manner as well?

Lois.

Without her, I find myself missing myself, in a way. I'm not the same without her. I'm trying my best to adhere to customs I don't know and which make little to no sense to me. I'm trying, for the first time in my life, to win over people so that they will listen to me. Even in the early days, when Lois didn't want me as her partner, and I tried to at least befriend her, it seemed natural. I didn't have to try all that hard. Circumstances and our very natures drew us closer together all the time. But now, I am faced with trying to win over a host of people that I could very easily resent for the part they played in taking me away from Lois, though it was always my choice to go with them or to stay on Earth. As for them...at best, these people distrust me. At worst, some of them seem to flat out hate me, all for various reasons. I'm not truly one of them, they feel. I was raised on Earth my entire life, so how can I possibly be an effective leader for New Krypton? I was raised by human beings, so how I can possibly relate to the people who share my DNA? I am weak for the emotions I tend to wear on my sleeve. I am not worthy of my titles, my claim to the nobility, even Zara. I'm tainted from living in a world so primitive, compared to the apparent splendor of the now extinct Krypton. The list goes on as I gather it from voices spoken both to my face as I endure meeting after meeting, and from hushed whispers no one thinks I can hear without my super abilities.

All it serves is to remind me of Lois. Maybe she didn't trust Clark right away, and knowing how she'd been taken advantage of by other partners, other men, I can't say that I blame her for her initial reticence. But Superman was someone she never questioned. She never looked at him with anything other than trust in her eyes. Maybe a little surprise and confusion when I first introduced the caped hero to her, but she never feared him, never questioned his motives, never once believed that he could not save the day. In fact, so many times, especially in the early days when I was learning how to deal with the demand on Superman's time and with not being able to save everyone, Lois was there to inspire me, to fuel me, to keep me going when I was so defeated that I was ready to kill the avatar I'd spawned. In those days, she believed in me even when I did not.

No other woman could have done what she did, in giving me hope and a reason to carry on with the work I'd started. If Superman has made any impact on the world, if he's inspired even one person to live a better life and to help make the world a better, safer place, it's because of Lois. Her words of encouragement, even when she had no idea that Superman could hear her, touched my heart and gave me the strength I lacked to keep fighting for a better planet. What good Superman has done can only be attributed to the woman who has always stood beside him, the well he's drawn from to keep his spirits up, and the source of light that chases away the darkness when a rescue goes wrong.

And, true to Lois' unique nature, she would rebuff any responsibility for Superman's good deeds. Because that's just the woman she is. She shines in her own accomplishments, but she pushes me to shine in mine all on my own.

* * *

She's unlike any other woman.

She is my wife.

At last.

It's been a battle of epic proportions to get to this moment. As if the universe itself has tried its hardest to keep us apart. As if God himself wanted to see just how willing we were to fight for our future together. But we've prevailed, overcome every obstacle, and have come out stronger and closer than we ever were. Maybe that was the point, that we've undergone a trial by fire in order to more solidly connect with one another, to better appreciate just what it is that we have together.

Forever.

Saying the words, making my vows, signing the paperwork. None of that is what makes this forever for me. Lois does. Knowing that it's her that I love, it makes it easy to know in my heart that there is no force in heaven or hell that will ever change the way I feel about her.

Lois.

With everything we've been through to get to this moment, where we've been joined as husband and wife, I'm reminded, again, of how incredible and rare of a woman she is. I can't imagine any other woman enduring what we did. I can't fathom any other woman fighting as hard for me as Lois did. No matter what we faced - and we faced unimaginable things - she never gave up on me, on us. Even when her memories were gone, there were moments when I could see her fighting to come back, to remember, to reclaim the life she'd lost. To find _me_ , if I may be so bold as to presume.

She's a fighter. I've always known that, on some level. But the recent events we've lived through have shown me just how far the depth of her fight goes. As always, I am reminded of her inner strength and it amazes me. In many ways, I think, she is stronger than I am. She has to be, to be married to a man who moonlights in tights and often has to rush off to a rescue with barely a second's notice, not knowing if I will be home in minutes, hours, or, occasionally, days, if the disaster is big enough. It takes a very special woman to put the rest of the world above herself, even though I try so hard to make sure that I maintain a healthy balance between my work as Clark, my duties as Superman, and my time at home as a loving husband and hopefully one day father.

But Lois does it. She quietly accepts that she must share me with the world. She encourages me to be Superman, to continue to fight for justice and peace, especially when it becomes difficult for me to find the resolve to do so. She refuses to let me give up during the times when the weight of the cape on my shoulders and the S on my chest is too great to bear. She is my greatest cheerleader, my biggest fan, my personal coach, my reason for being, the one person who truly understands my heart. She is the one who has chased away the shadows of loneliness in my life and given me the hope - no, the _certainty_ \- that I can have a normal life, that I am worthy of the lofty goals I had set for myself - a good job where I can help people, the ability to use my powers as Superman, and, of course, of a fierce love that is reciprocated. And one day, if God permits this humble, flawed alien to combine his genes with those of a perfect, amazing Earth woman, I pray to raise a family with Lois.

She'll be a great mother. I already know this, even if she herself has her doubts. For all the bluster and bravado that Lois Lane shows the world, Lois _Kent_ has a gentle spirit, a loving soul, the patience of a saint, and kindness that goes beyond description. In my mind's eye, I already see her rocking our newborn to sleep, tucking our toddler into bed, driving our teenager to the mall, be it a child who shares our unique combination of genes or a child we adopt.

Whichever it is, I look forward to the journey because I know, with this unparalleled woman by my side, we can face anything that might come our way.


End file.
